


The View From Here

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [98]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes even when you’re together, you still need some time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The View From Here

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published December 1, 2005
> 
> Part of the Menageaverse Apocrypha. Takes place in the year or so following Chosen. This is Mydeira’s fault. It was her words that inspired it, and her bunny that kept it alive. Goddess bless her . . .
> 
> This is the result of sharing a brain. [](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/profile)[**mydeira**](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/) made a passing reference in a story she's working on that got us both realizing that we'd never had Ethan watching Giles . . . indulge himself, shall we say? The image was so strong for both of us that we both started writing it, totally independent of each other. It's interesting to see what we did similarly and what we did different. When you finish here, go check out [When I Think About You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/757307) for her take on the subject.

I woke up in a cozy nest of blankets with a warm body curved up against my back. And smiled.

There were worse places in the world to wake up. I knew, I’d been in some of them. But after more than four years with my lovers, much of the last year spent practically living together, I found that I’d gotten used to sharing my bed with another person, to the point where I had a difficult time sleeping alone now. Not that I’d admit that to them. Well, maybe Joyce. If I were feeling particularly candid. Or she did that wonderful thing with her tongue . . .

But Joyce wasn’t here. She was in Rome for the week, visiting the girls. And the body pressed up against mine bore little resemblance to her soft curves and delicate skin.

I rolled over carefully onto my back so as not to disturb Ripper. He snorted softly and settled his arm once again over my waist in that charmingly possessive way he had. Even in sleep, he claimed what was his, not differentiating between Joyce and me. I’d gotten used to that, too.

Lifting my head to see over his broad shoulder, I read six twenty-three on the alarm clock. Seven more minutes until it would blare and rouse him for another day of Watchering. He seemed almost grateful for the demands the new Council placed on him, and not as the penance it had once been but rather as a satisfying career in itself. He was genuinely good at it and enjoyed the challenge. But I knew and Joyce knew how hard it was for him. So we both found ways to make it easier. Again, not that I’d admit that.

I thought today that would mean giving him a bit of a lie in.

Moving carefully, I slipped out from under his arm and sat up on the edge of the bed to rub the lingering effects of sleep out of my eyes. Then I rose and limped quietly around the foot of the bed to turn off the clock before heading into the bathroom.

The foot was the only lingering reminder of my go-round with the First a year ago. Everything else had healed more or less intact, thanks to magic and intense physical therapy. But there were too many tiny bones in the foot that had to line up just so in order to walk without pain, and the Turok-han had just done too much damage for it to ever heal true. It had healed enough, though. My therapist was amazed I could use it at all without a walker, but I was stubborn enough that I had gotten to the point where I could manage with just a cane, and for short trips even without that. I’d never been the most graceful of men, so if I wobbled or stumbled a bit, no one really took notice. Or at least they pretended not to.

I showered quickly and threw a towel around my waist before running water in the sink to shave with. It wasn’t until I was laying out my kit that I realized I’d left my cologne in the bedroom. With a sigh, I turned off the water again and went back into the other room.

The sight that met me there froze me in my tracks.

Rupert had thrown back the coverlet, leaving himself bare to the cool air of the room. His left arm was cast up over the pillows near his head and he had his eyes closed with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his hand worked his swollen cock in fierce, short strokes, his hips arching off the mattress as he neared release.

As I saw it, I had several choices. I could go over there and add my mouth to the mix, see how long he could hold off then. Or I could reach down and take hold of my own hardening prick and jerk off along with him. Instead, I just leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

He had a kind of masculine beauty that was uniquely and undeniably Ripper. Despite the gentle degradation of age, he still had an aura of strength about him that I suspected he would always carry. But at the moment it was his face I found the most interesting. Thinking he was alone, he didn’t mask his emotions. There was no defensiveness, no calculation, no control. He was instead relaxed and content looking, lost in the pleasure of the act. He grunted sharply and jerked as he came at last, semen spilling amongst the silver curls trailing down his stomach.

As the last tension seeped out of his muscles, he brought his free hand down to almost affectionately massage his balls as he milked the last few drops of pleasure from his softening cock with a satisfied sigh, relaxing deeper into the pillows.

I figured I’d held my tongue long enough at this point. “I could have helped you with that, you know.”

His eyes flew open, locking on me. Warrior’s instinct, I suppose. Then he relaxed, his hand not moving from his groin. “Sometimes a man just needs some time to himself.”

I snorted. “Still,” I relented, “it was quite the show.”

His eyes narrowed slowly in calculation. When he spoke again, there was a promising note to his voice. “Give me your towel.”

I knew what he was after. Instead I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “You know full well there’s a towel in the bottom of the nightstand for just such occasions.”

He closed his eyes with a smile of smug contentment. “But that would involve actual movement.”

“Poor baby.”

When he opened his eyes again, there was something different there. “Give us the towel, Ethan.”

In all our years together, I had seen every mood and emotion Ripper had. But never, ever had I seen the commanding, powerful, dominant man play coy. Not that he was being effete. Far from it. He was simply cajoling instead of demanding. I had to reward him for the effort.

I took hold of the front fold of the towel and whipped it from around my hips with a snap before tossing it onto his chest. His eyes, darker now, never left off studying me as he carefully cleaned off his stomach and prick before casting the towel aside. I knew exactly what he saw. A body like his, leaner but no more untouched by the years than his was, more tan, less hair, and in the middle of it my cock standing firm and ready. I didn’t try to hide from him. I’d never been ashamed of my body, and certainly wasn’t embarrassed by my reaction to him.

“You really did enjoy that, didn’t you?” he asked, sounding mildly surprised.

I shrugged. “You look brilliant when you’re wanton. You never did give yourself enough credit.”

“But you do.”

“I don’t have to.” I gestured vaguely towards my erection. “The results speak for themselves.”

His eyes narrowed. “I could help you with that.”

“No, thanks.” I turned toward the dresser where I’d left my cologne. “Gives me something to remember you by.”

“Ethan.” This time there was nothing playful in his tone. “Get in the bed.”

This was the Ripper I was used to, and at the same time I felt a thrill of arousal, I also had the overwhelming sense of security. Because I knew him. Rupert was a possessive man, but he was also fiercely protective of what he considered his. And when he spoke like that, I knew I was one of those things. Even now, after all we’d been through together, I still often found it difficult to believe that he lumped me into that category. That he would protect me, should I need it, just the same as he would Joyce.

Of course, anyone who tried anything with him would spend many long, painful hours as I taught them to regret it.

But we didn’t say these things to each other. Instead I sighed and turned back to the bed, sliding in next to him. His broad hand curved around my neck to pull me closer, and my mouth was already opening when he crushed his against me. He explored it in that way he had, using lips and teeth and tongue to map out every inch, building my arousal like a maestro. But then, I always had been his favorite instrument.

When finally he pulled back, I looked up into the dark storm of his hazel eyes. “You’re going to be late for work, you know.”

He trailed his lips along my jaw as his hand coasted down over my ribs. “And at precisely nine-oh-two, the next apocalypse will appear and swallow the Earth in an instant. Oh, well.” He seemed amused as his hand caressed over my stomach.

“I thought I was the glib one,” I said, words coming harder now as he continued on down to stroke the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

“And I thought I was the one who lectured about responsibility.”

I hissed as his hand finally curled around my cock, squeezing tightly in greeting. “You’ve been a bad influence.”

“One of us has.” But I didn’t care about conversation anymore, quickly losing myself in the fiery caress of battle-hardened calluses over taut, delicate skin. “You didn’t think you’d change me, did you?”

“No,” he shook his head, subtly twisting his wrist to add more texture to the friction. “I’ll leave that in Joyce’s capable hands. Mine are rather full at the moment.”

I didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively, and at the moment I didn’t care as he released my shaft to move lower, cupping my balls in his palm as his long fingers massaged the tender muscle behind. When he pressed down hard, I couldn’t keep from bucking and inadvertently broke the connection between us.

His growl of displeasure echoed my own soft moan. He took hold of me, shoulder and hip, and rolled me over so my back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me to hold me close. As his hand found its way back to my cock, he nuzzled his face in my neck. “You smell good.”

From this angle, his hand made more contact as it stroked along my shaft in ever building pressure. I could feel release blossoming, but this felt too good to end it already by something as trivial as climaxing. “You didn’t let me get my cologne on,” I said pointlessly, more as a distraction for myself than anything.

“I know.” He scented slowly along my neck. “You smell better without it.” His tongue flicked out to trace a fine line along the vein pounding there. “Taste better, too.”

The man made restraint all but impossible. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this much.”

“What makes you say that?” he fairly purred against my ear.

I ground my ass against his flaccid cock in answer.

He chuckled. “I just came not five minutes ago, mate. I’m not a young man anymore. My recovery time’s not what it was.” He pulled me a little closer. “It’s enough for me that you’re enjoying this.”

That did more to me than any manipulation from his very talented hand could. I hitched, unable to hold back the groan of pure pleasure his words and touch coaxed out of me.

He knew how close I was. He always did. “I know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice gone throaty and bass, his hand moving in short, intense pulls now. “Give me what I want, Ethan. Come for me.”

There was no holding out against him. I didn’t know why I had even tried, when the rewards for surrender were so sweet. I froze, my head crushed back against his shoulder as the last bit of tension wound itself tight and suddenly let go, flooding me with warmth and bliss as I heaved against him. “God, Rupert!”

I felt something abrasive against me, and realized vaguely that he had somehow gotten the towel in place in time to save the sheets. It felt good. Everything felt good in that moment, so I gave myself up to it and just drifted on the ecstasy for long moments.

To my disappointment, he slowly drew away, letting me roll onto my back on the mattress. I heard him pick up the phone, and then speak a moment later. “Yes, this is Rupert Giles.” I wanted to snicker at the change in his voice from seductive lothario to Council prat. “Please inform Miss Rosenberg and Miss Maclay that I won’t be in until noon. Something’s come up at home that I need to see to. Yes, thank you.”

When he hung up, I rolled over to lay my hand on his cock. “Has something come up?”

He didn’t rise to the bait, instead reclining back against the pillows again, his eyes closed in contentment. “Not yet. But I’m sure it will, given enough time. Especially if you leave your hand there.”

I stroked him gently with more affection than demand. “What will Joyce say when she finds out you’ve been skiving off work?”

“Probably that it’s about time.”

“Mmm.” I agreed, but was too relaxed to taunt him with it. It was enough to just lay there with him.


End file.
